“You mean the vault?”
“Aye.”
“Since I am a prisoner, you should put me there.”
“You are better off here.”
Emllyn was feeling the pull so strongly that she almost couldn’t reply. She had to think hard on forming a sentence. Tearing her eyes away from him, she looked around the chamber, seeing it as it was now, with furs and a fire. But there were things around the chamber even before those things had been brought that suggested it had not been an empty one. She’d been told it had been his mother’s chamber, but there was more to it. Something told her that it had been Devlin’s also and that’s why she’d been brought there.
To him.
“Does this chamber not belong to someone already?” she asked.
He nodded. “It is mine.”
So much for being compliant. When he admitted it was his chamber, that drew a reaction from her. “For mercy’s sake,” she said. “Shouldn’t you move me to another chamber so I will not be caged here… with you?”
He lifted a well-defined eyebrow. “How many times must I tell you that you belong to me?” he said. “That means you willbe caged here in my chamber, with me, because that act alone will preserve your personal safety. Do you realize how many men want to kill you simply for being English? You have a great many enemies in this castle, my lady. Rather than look upon me as your jailor, I would suggest you look upon me as your protector.”
She was growing angry. “A protector who has intimidated me and brutalized me,” she said, lowering her gaze. She spoke before she could stop herself. “A protector would keep me safe from harm, but I do not feel safe with you.”
Devlin could feel himself stiffen to her accusations. Deep down, he knew she was right to a certain extent, but he didn’t see it that way. He wasn’t used to anyone questioning his behavior or actions, and it didn’t sit well with him.
“I did not harm you,” he countered. “There are no bruises upon you. You are not bleeding, nor did I break any bones. I would be careful what you accuse me of.”
Her head shot up. “What Iaccuseyou of?” she repeated, incredulous. “Then what you would call it?”
His eyes glittered but he held himself in check, like a coiled snake before it strikes. “I would call it victory,” he said simply. “The sooner you come to terms with that, the better for us both.”
Emllyn met his gaze a moment longer before looking away, disgusted. “You are not my protector,” she said. “Call me what I am– a prisoner, and you are my jailor. A protector is someone who is gallant and chivalrous, which you have not been. You did not like it when I called you an animal. Mayhap you should not act like one if you wish for me to reform my opinion.”
He was rebuked. Fighting off the urge to bellow at her, Devlin stared at her a good, long moment before sighing sharply. He was resisting the strong impulse to throw her down on the bed and show her just what kind of a brute he could really be, but in that same thought, he realized it wasn’t punishment as much as it was simply a very strong desire to bed her. There was so muchemotion and confusion rolling around in his chest that his hands began to quiver. Why didn’t he just take her and be done with it? She belonged to him, didn’t she?
…didn’t she?
Jesus… what was happening to him?
“For a woman who sailed to Ireland on an invasion fleet, you have little right to accuse me of being an animal,” he muttered. “Your brother has slaughtered thousands of Irish and taken thousands more as slaves, and he justifies his actions because he believes Lord Justice of Ireland gives him that right. The English in general slaughter Scots and Welsh by the thousands because they covet their lands. How are the English any less animals than I am?”
Emllyn stared at the fire. “My brother does not brutalize a woman he claims to be protecting.”
“So this is all about me, is it? I am the worst rebel there is and your brother is a saint?”
She shook her head. “I did not say he was a saint,” he said. “But he has as much right to these lands as you do. They belonged to my grandfather and his father before him.”
It was the wrong thing to say. Devlin broke from his stance near the bed and swooped in on her, grasping her by the arms and yanking her up from the stool. He had her trapped up against his massive chest, his eyes blazing at her.
“Your grandfather’s father stole lands from my family,” he snarled. “They do not belong to any Englishman. They belong to Ireland and if God is merciful, I will soon restore them to my people. Never again lecture me about brutality and conquest because, my lady, your people have done far worse than I could ever hope to achieve.”
Gazing up into Devlin’s angry blue eyes, Emllyn began to feel some fear. Not the pure, abject terror she had felt earlier, but a deeper-seated fear. She was afraid of him, but not for obviousreasons. She wasn’t afraid that he was going to kill her– she knew enough about the man that she knew he would not. She was afraid of what he was going to do to her and of how she might not be willing to stop him. It began to occur to her that perhaps she was afraid of herself because she liked having him close. She liked his big, hard body against hers and his lips on her earlobe.
There was something about him that made her entire body quiver with desire.
“So you will punish them by ravaging me?” she said quietly, her voice trembling. “You have been threatening to do it since we met. You were quite clear when you told me of your plans for me. What kind of man takes out his frustrations on the weak and helpless?”
Devlin didn’t answer her; he was too furious to. But he was also consumed by the feel and smell of her, something that instantly aroused him. She was provoking him; he could sense it. She was being reckless with her words, reckless to the point of punishment and as he gazed into her eyes, he could see a tumult of emotion that matched whatever he thought he was feeling, too. He didn’t like it one bit. For a man perpetually in control, he didn’t like the thought of being unable to control whatever it was he felt for her. If he even felt anything at all.
Perhaps all he felt was lust and nothing more.
